


Little Flames

by weethreequarter



Category: The Daevabad Trilogy - S. A. Chakraborty
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon compliant until mid City of Brass, Canon-Typical Racism, Everyone Is Alive, Except Ghassan, F/M, Family Fluff, First Kiss, Flashbacks, Fluff, Learning how to deal with your internal prejudices, More like second first kiss, Morning Sickness, Nightmares, No character bashing, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parent-Child Relationship, Parenthood, Pregnancy, Sort Of, mostly possible backstory spoilers, potential Empire of Gold spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:07:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25200646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weethreequarter/pseuds/weethreequarter
Summary: In another, kinder universe, Dara and Nahri get their happy ending.A series of scenes throughout their lives together.
Relationships: Darayavahoush e-Afsin/Nahri e-Nahid
Comments: 40
Kudos: 21





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This started a week ago when I started re-reading City of Brass while I waited for Empire of Gold to arrive and was struck with a sudden need for soft Dara with kids. Then I got to the scene at the temple in City of Brass and realised Dara playing with kids was canon. So I started writing random little scenes and this is the result. I have no idea how many I'll do; I have about ten maybe written/half written already? They will be plot light as this is just about the fluff really. Because it's me, there could be slight angst but always with a happy ending. 
> 
> As for where this diverges from canon, honestly? I'm not 100% sure. Like I said, this isn't getting into plot. I just wanted to give Nahri and Dara a happy ending together. I think probably from the point at the Temple where he tries to tell her that she deserves children, but I'm not going into details. Similarly, Ghassan is gone but I'm not getting into the how and we're just ignoring Manizheh. I repeat, this is all about the fluff. Also these are in the order written rather than chronological order.
> 
> Even though this is Dara/Nahri, there will be no character bashing. I don't do character bashing anyway, and I loved the Nahri/Ali arc in the books. I went from disliking Ali in City of Brass to crying over him as a certain point in Empire of Gold. There could be some minor spoilers for Empire of Gold, but mostly in backstories rather than specific events because canon divergence.

Nisreen gently placed the tiny body in Dara’s arms then stepped away, but he noticed nothing but the baby nestled in the soft blanket. She wriggled, shifting closer to the warmth of his body, and Dara adjusted his hold, cradling his against his chest, which felt as though it might burst at any moment from the love he felt for this tiny daeva.

His daughter.

His child who, by all accounts, shouldn’t exist. But his wife was a Nahid and wasn’t about to let anything stand in their way.

His daughter mewled and Dara shushed her softly. He raised her in his arms, ducking his head to press a feather-light kiss against her forehead and breathing in his newborn daughter. 

“Hello, little one,” he murmured.

She shifted in his arms, leaning against his chest and settling and Dara smiled. He smiled so widely, he thought his face might break. She ears were rounded like her mother, and when she blinked up at him, he saw the blue eyes of her birth were already tinged with green like his own. Dara ran his finger over her little button nose, laughing to himself when it made her pout angrily. An expression which made her look even more like Nahri than she already did.

She was perfect. 

Dara hummed softly, swaying from side to side, the tune of a lullaby from his own youth coming easily to his lips as he gazed at his daughter with reverence.

“Banu Nahida,” he breathed. “I’m your Afshin, and your father.” 

Her tiny fingers, so impossibly tiny, wrapped around his forefinger which only served to make her look even smaller. Dara swallowed around the lump in his throat and thanked anyone who was listening for blessing him with this family, one he never thought he would have. He pressed another kiss to her hand and swore to protect her from the world.

* * *

Nahri was exhausted but she refused to close her eyes. She didn’t want to miss out on the sight before her: Dara, holding their daughter, with tears in his eyes and an awestruck expression upon his face as he quietly sang daeva lullabies to her. It was the most beautiful sight in the world and she would never grow tired of it.

“Banu Nahri,” Nisreen said softly.

“Yes?” Nahri replied, reluctantly drawing her gaze from Dara.

“You have visitors,” Nisreen smiled. “Two very small visitors.”

“Bring them in?” Nahri smiled.

“Of course.”

Nisreen disappeared, returning a moment later with a child in either hand. Yaqub gazed around the room with wide eyes, his fingers stuck in his mouth, while Azarmeen held her chin high, her eyes fixed on Dara and the baby. 

“Hello, darlings,” Nahri smiled. 

“Mama,” Yaqub murmured, climbing onto the bed and curling into her side. Nahri ran her hand through her son’s hair, pressing a kiss to his curly hair and taking comfort from the warm weight of him. 

Azarmeen eyed Dara and the baby for another moment, before clambering onto the bed, all limbs and long hair, rolling over until she was sitting cross-legged by Nahri’s hip. Nahri reached out, running her knuckles over her eldest’s soft cheek. Azarmeen drew her gaze from Dara for a moment to give Nahri a small smile. 

“Are you ready to meet your sister?” Dara asked, joining them on the bed, the newest addition to their family cradled in his arms.

“Another sister?” Yaqub exclaimed.

“I’m afraid so, sweetheart,” Nahri laughed.

Yaqub sighed, slumping against her side. Nahri wrapped her arm around him. It was only a few short years ago that he was the baby in Dara’s arms and Azarmeen was the toddler gazing at her knew sibling with disappointment at gaining a brother instead of the sister she’d longed for. 

Nahri suspected Azarmeen’s enthusiasm for a sister had waned somewhat in the intervening years. Azarmeen shifted onto her knees, crawling across the bed to Dara’s side and looking down at the baby with a small frown. 

From the day she was born, Azarmeen had had Dara wrapped around her little finger. They were partners in crime, nigh on inseparable most days, and the intrusion of a new baby was likely not welcome in Azarmeen’s opinion. Nahri let her eyes trace her eldest daughter’s features; her brow and nose like Dara, with Nahri’s eyes, pointed ears sticking out from her long, dark hair. Azarmeen was Dara’s shadow, desperate to be just like her baba. 

Meanwhile, Yaqub was Dara’s double in miniature, the only difference between them the rounded ears Yaqub inherited from her. He was quieter, preferring Nahri’s company and the quiet of the infirmary. Nisreen commented that Yaqub reminded her a little of Rustam. His hand twisted into her tunic, lest she leave him again, and Nahri smiled. 

“What do you think?” Dara asked Azarmeen.

“She’s very little,” Azarmeen declared, with more diplomacy than Nahri previously would’ve given her daughter credit for. 

“You were once that little,” Dara grinned.

“Smaller,” Nahri corrected. Azarmeen came over a month early, determined to arrive on her own schedule even then. Nahri remembered the first time she saw her baby and the fear she felt realising that this tiny being relied on her for everything. She’d been on the verge of feeling completely overwhelmed until Dara sat down behind her, wrapping them both in her arms and Nahri knew that he would never let anything happen to her or Azarmeen. 

“No, I wasn’t,” Azarmeen frowned as though offended by the suggestion. 

“You were,” Nahri confirmed and Azarmeen huffed. 

“What’s her name?” Yaqub asked around his fingers, reaching out and poking Dara in the knee with his toes.

Nahri gently pulled Yaqub’s fingers from his mouth, wiping them clean and giving him an admonishing look. It was a habit they were trying to break. Then she looked up and found Dara watching her. 

She nodded.

“Tamima,” Dara replied. “Her name is Tamima. After your aunt.”

Azarmeen’s face scrunched in confusion. “We don’t have an Aunt Tamima,” she sniffed. “We have Aunt Zaynab and Auntie Nisreen, but not Aunt Tamima.”

“Your Aunt Tamima was my sister,” Dara explained softly. “She was my sister. She died a long time before you were born.”

Nahri caught the flicker of pain which danced across Dara’s features before he could hide it from the children. Her heart swelled and had she the energy, she would leaned forward and drawn him into her arms, whispering assurances that it was time to forgive himself for everything he’d been made to do, first at the hands of the Nahids and then his human masters. As it was, she caught him eye and smiled, trying to communicate all the love she had for him and their family in a single look.

Dara smiled back.

Tamima squirmed in his arms, then let out a faint cry. Dara leaned forward, transferring Tamima into Nahri’s waiting arms before her cries grew louder.

“What’s wrong?” Yaqub asked.

“She’s hungry,” Nahri explained, adjusting her tunic to allow Tamima to latch on, the baby settling almost instantly. An easy feeder, thank the Creator, after her two fussy siblings.

“Oh.”

Azarmeen shifted, inching closer to Dara until he pulled her into his lap, and finally a small smile graced her face, leaning back against Dara’s chest.

Once Tamima was finished, Nahri lifted her onto her shoulder, rubbing her back gently in a familiar movement. Then Dara took her once more, lifting Tamima into the cradle he’d made before Azarmeen’s birth before hustling Azarmeen and Yaqub from the bed.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s leave mama to get some sleep.”

The children grumbled but did as he said, and Nahri gave him a tired smile. The exhaustion was creeping over her and she was ready for some much needed sleep.

Dara leaned down, kissing her softly. “Get some rest, my love,” he whispered. 

“Thank you,” she replied. 

He shook his head, drawing Yaqub and Azarmeen into his side. “No, thank you.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dara makes a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SLIGHTLY SPOILERY WARNINGS: canon typical racism and learning how to remove your prejudices.
> 
> A reminder that these are not in chronological order, and that this scene takes place years before the last one.

Dara tried not to let the hostile gazes of the shaft get under his skin, schooling his features into a neutral expression lest they mistake his scowl for hostility. Which, okay, it was. A little. To an extent. But he was trying, he was. But unlearning a lifetime of hatred and misinformation took time, and unraveling all the threads of hatred his ancestors had managed to weave through his being was harder than he’d ever imagined.

However, it would be worth it, Dara knew, when he managed to rid himself of the prejudice in his mind. After all, how could he profess to love Nahri when he hated what she was? No, if he wanted to spend whatever lifetimes he had left by her side, first he needed to work through his hatred of the shafit, poking at the deepest, darkest parts of himself until he’d untangled the mess of anger and disgust and thrown it away. 

In the meantime, he just had to weather their looks of open suspicion and distrust and even disgust. It was worth it. 

It was why he’d offered to accompany Nahri to the shafit district when she visited the daevas who’d been forced to move their with their shafit offspring, who were refused treatment by the shafit doctors because the hatred ran so deeply. Well, not the _only_ reason. There was also the fact that Dara would never trust anyone - daeva, djinn, human or shafit - to look out for Nahri the way he did. He was her Afshin; he always would be, even if they never became anything more. 

He hung back as Nahri greeted the daeva woman, softening his features when the woman looked at him nervously, as though she feared he had his scourge ready to punish her for daring to have a family with a human. Nahri threw him a smile over her shoulder, one which he couldn’t help but return, before following the daeva woman out of the room. 

Left alone, Dara looked around, trying not to feel awkward and failing miserably. The little voice in his head ribbed him constantly, warning him not to touch anything the shafit could’ve touched. Which was ridiculous, he huffed, biting back a growl. What would touching a chair touched by the shafit do to him? The further he dug, the more he realised exactly how deep and how ridiculous the prejudices against the shafit were. 

Which was why he grabbed the chair, somewhat harder than was strictly necessary, and held on tight just to prove to that annoying little voice that there was nothing to worry about. 

Dara’s head jerked up when he heard footsteps racing down the narrow stairs which led upstairs, quickly releasing the chair as though he’d been caught doing something wrong and feeling infinitely foolish when a child burst into the room and exclaimed, “Fayruz! Oh.”

The girl’s face dropped when she spotted Dara. He gave an awkward little smile, trying not to stare at the girl’s ears, rounded like Nahri’s.

“May the fires burn brightly for you,” the girl mumbled, dropping her gaze. 

“And for you,” Dara nodded.

“I thought you were Fayruz.” The girl’s mouth twisted. She looked lonely. And sad. And so very small. Dara was struck by memories of his sister at that age, so very long ago, and felt the familiar pang of hatred and anger and self loathing thoughts of his family always elicited.

“Who’s Fayruz?” Dara asked, clearing his throat to try and rid himself of the taste of bile.

“She’s- She _was_ ,” the girl corrected, “My friend. My cousin.” Her forehead creased and she pouted furiously which shouldn’t be as adorable as it was. Dara felt his lips twitching into a smile and forced them to remain still. “She says I’m a _baby_ ,” the girl spat. “She thinks she’s special because she’s _older_. She wants to go to the market and watch the boys because she think Husni will notice her. She says I’m a baby because I think that’s boring. But boys are silly.”

“They are,” Dara agreed. “We’re very silly.” 

The girl giggled. “You’re Darayavahoush,” she declared.

“I am,” Dara nodded, crouching down to her level. “You know my name, but I don’t know yours.”

“I’m Bahiyya,” she announced.

“Hello Bahiyya,” Dara smiled.

“Are you guarding the Banu Nahida?” Bahiyya asked curiously, leaning towards him.

“I am,” Dara nodded. “She’s helping your mother.”

Bahiyya nodded. She studied him with big brown eyes and Dara could see she had a plan forming in her head. He was almost curious to see what she was plotting. 

“Will it take long?” Bahiyya asked, her voice dripping with faux innocence which Dara recognised from his sister.

“I don’t know,” he replied honestly. “Perhaps. Why?”

Bahiyya grinned, batting her long eyelashes as she gazed up at him and Dara realised he was about to agree to whatever she asked. 

* * *

“Thank you, Banu Nahida,” Shahnaz said once Nahri had finished the procedure. “May the fires burn brightly for you.”

“And for you,” Nahri smiled. She squeezed the woman’s hand. “And you do not need to thank me.”

Shahnaz and her family were the type of people Nahri hoped to help with the Nahid hospital she and Ali were rebuilding, but in the meantime she would happily travel to the shafit district to help the daevas cast out for daring to love someone different. For daring to have children like Nahri. It burned her to know that children just like her were living in poverty while she remained exempt because of a lie and an accident of birth. Were she not a Nahid, she would’ve ended to exactly the same way and even then, it was only luck and Ghassan’s machinations which kept her from this fate.

Smiling at Shahnaz once more, Nahri followed the woman to retrieve her wayward Afshin. Nahri stepped into the room and bit back a gasp of delight. But she couldn’t contain the expression of amusement which spread across her face as she took in the sight before her.

Darayavahoush e-Afshin, the Scourge of Qui-zi, was sitting on the dusty floor with a small shafit child standing behind him, weaving his hair into a complicated braid decorated with flowers without a whisper of complaint. In fact, he wore a small smile on his face and appeared to be listening avidly to the girl’s chattering stories, nodding and murmuring, “Really?” or “Is that so?” at regular intervals.

It was utterly _adorable_.

Nahri cleared her throat and Dara looked up, but instead of jumping to his feet or brushing the child off like Nahri might’ve expected him to, Dara just smiled up at her. He blushed a little, which just reinforced her belief that it was adorable, but there was no shame in him face at being caught with his guard down around the child. 

The child who gasped when she spotted Nahri, her eyes as wide as saucers as she gazed up at her. “She’s the Banu Nahida!” she whispered loudly to Dara.

“She is,” he chuckled.

“She’s so pretty.”

“She is,” Dara agreed, his eyes meeting Nahri’s and Nahri hoped she didn’t blush. “I’m afraid that means it’s time for me to leave, small one.”

“Okay. Thank you for letting me practise with your hair.”

“Thank you for making me look so good,” Dara replied, climbing to his feet. “Goodbye Bahiyya.”

“Goodbye!” Bahiyya beamed and Nahri was certain that Dara had gained a new admirer.

She bid Shahnaz a good day, then followed Dara outside towards the waiting palanquin.

“You look very beautiful,” Nahri said, grinning up at Dara.

He smiled back, drawing confused and curious looks from the shafit in the street. “Thank you,” he replied.

Nahri reached up, tucking in one of the flowers which threatened to fall out of the braid, before climbing into the palanquin. As they made their way through the city back to the palace, Nahri caught sight of Dara through the fluttering curtain every so often, and every time he wore a soft smile, his head held high. She bit her lip.

When they returned to the palace, Dara accompanied her through the halls to her rooms. Nahri led him inside, waiting while Dara closed the door, then stepped forward and kissed him. She felt his sharp inhale but then he kissed her back, his hands cradling her face like she was something precious.

“Nahri,” he sighed and she shivered, stepping closer and delighting in the way their bodies fit together. She remembered kissing him in the cave on their journey to Daevabad and it was the same but better, because there was no rush, no desperate need. Dara held her close, his arms strong but his hands soft, and it was the safest she’d ever felt in her life. 

They broke apart slowly but didn’t move far. Dara pressed their foreheads together and Nahri smiled, breathing in the scent of ash and warmth and burnt citrus which seemed to follow Dara everywhere. His lips brushed over her cheekbone, sending another shiver down her spine. Nahri bit her lip in a poor attempt to curb her grin and wound her fingers through the braid in his hair. His thumb rubbed small circles into her hip. 

“Nahri,” Dara whispered, his voice reverential, and when she looked up and finally met his gaze, he smiled down at her and it felt like a promise.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dara listens to the rain.

Dara lay in the darkness, listening to the rain pounding against the palace outside. Early yesterday morning, dark clouds began to gather above Daevabad, the ugly purple signalling a downpour was coming. Dara spent the whole day glancing suspiciously at the sky. To his relief, the deluge didn’t begin until after dark, once he and Nahri were safely tucked up in the palace. 

Even so, the sheer amount of water falling from the sky made his skin crawl. He felt a little ridiculous. Being afraid of water was one thing - it was sensible, because the marid lived in water and he didn’t trust the marid - but being afraid of rain was… well. It was embarrassing. And he wasn’t _afraid_ of rain, not really. It wasn’t the rain but the _amount_ of it which bothered him. It would be running over the terraces and paths of the palace, mini rivers cascading down towards the lake. That was what bothered him.

In his mind that made it okay, but Dara was still in no hurry to confess his feelings to anyone else. He quietly doubted they would agree with his reasoning.

Dara rolled onto his side. He settled against the pillows, watching his wife sleep through the darkness. Nahri didn’t share his dislike of water, and she would certainly find it funny if he told her that he was uncomfortable with the rain.

(Not afraid. He wasn’t afraid.)

Her face slack with sleep, Nahri’s head lolled towards him. Dara reached out, carefully picking a stray lock of hair from her face. It caught on her eyelashes and she twitched, her face scrunching up before falling still again with a small sigh.

Suleiman’s eye, but she was beautiful. He’d thought her beautiful during that first journey together from Cairo to Daevabad and as far as Dara was concerned, she’d only grown more beautiful as time passed. Growing from the too-thin pickpocket he’d met that night into a beautiful woman and flourishing as the Banu Nahida. And now she was his wife. 

Dara let his hand fall onto her belly, distended under her robe, his fingers splayed. Every time he saw the rise of Nahri’s belly, Dara fought not to become overwhelmed. Marrying Nahri was miraculous enough as far as he was concerned. To be blessed with a child - their child - left his mind filled with wonder and his heart fit to burst. By all accounts, this child never should’ve been possible. But his wife was a Nahid, and a particularly stubborn one at that, and wasn’t about to let a little thing such as what was possible stop her. Nahri’s magic never ceased to amaze him, coming second now only to the life growing inside her. 

One day soon, he would be able to feel their child move underneath his hand. Dara prayed it would happen when they were alone, because he knew without a shadow of a doubt he would break down in tears the first time he felt his child move and if anyone other than Nahri saw, it would completely ruin his reputation.

(He’d never had a chance at maintaining his reputation around Nahri. Nor did he want to. She knew everything about him, his darkest, most innermost thoughts, and still loved him anyway.)

Thunder rumbled overheard, followed by a flash of lightening which snuck its way into the room through the cracks in the shutters. Dara shuddered and inched closer to Nahri. Whether the closeness was for her protection or his own remained unclear, but being close to her comforted him either way. 

Dara lay awake, his hand on Nahri’s belly, nuzzling the crown of his head for hours until the thunder drifted into the distance and the rain grew faint. Comforted at last, he buried his face into his wife’s hair and fell asleep with her in his arms. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a nightmare, Dara needs to be sure.

Dara woke with a jolt, his breath harsh even to his own ears in the silence of their bedchamber. 

_Nahri._

He sat quickly, reaching for his wife. His hands found Nahri through the darkness, asleep at his side right where she was when he went to sleep. But Dara couldn’t let it rest. He had to ease back the covers and check her for injuries, leaning close until he could hear her breathing and pressing his fingers to her throat, looking for a pulse. Only then did he begin to relax, but only a little. 

In his mind, he saw Nahri and their children, lying dead, their bodies discarded with the rest of his family. Dara’s vision blurred. 

Slipping out of bed, he padded across the room. He opened the door just enough to slid through, then hurried down the hall to the nursery. 

Tamima was sprawled on her back in the cradle, her little mouth open as she snored quietly. Dara let his hand rest against her cheek for a moment, letting the warmth bleeding from her skin reassure him. Then he turned to the bed at the side of room, where Yaqub was curled up in a ball, wrapped around his pillow with his forehead creased in a deep frown. Dara’s heart seized when he couldn’t find Yaqub’s pulse, but then he sneezed, his body jerking without waking. 

Finally, Dara made his way to the second room of the nursery, claimed by Azarmeen as her own, who loftily announced she was too old for the nursery now. Dara tiptoed into the room, crouching by the bed and checking her for the gaping wounds he’d seen in his dream. Azarmeen’s limbs were spread out like a star and her breathing was steady, but Dara lingered, unshed tears blurring his vision as he watched his daughter sleep, and fought the urge to scoop her up - scoop them all up - and carry them back to bed with him.

Finally, he stood up and left the nursery, hesitating in the doorway for a moment, before returning slowly to his bedchamber. He felt raw. Like he was the one on the end of the scourge rather than his family. 

Dara shivered.

He let himself back into their apartment, closing the door behind him when Nahri’s voice called, “Dara?”

“Sorry,” he replied. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“What is it? Is something wrong?” Nahri asked, her voice thick with sleep. 

Dara shook his head and forced himself to release the door handle. Nahri was sitting up in bed, her hair a tangled mess upon her head, blinking sleepily and under any other occasion, Dara would’ve been struck by her beauty and taken advantage of the fact they were both awake to make love to her until they fell asleep again together. 

Instead, he sat on the end of the bed, dragging his hands over his face and exhaling slowly, trying to force the remnants of his dream from his mind.

“What’s wrong?” Nahri asked softly. He felt the bed shift, then her arms slipped around his shoulders. She pressed herself along his back, her hair falling over his shoulder as she pressed a kiss to his temple. Dara reached up, covering her hands with his own. “Tell me,” Nahri whispered.

Dara swallowed. “I saw my family,” he explained hoarsely. “What was done to them. Because of me. And I saw you. And our children.”

“Dara…”

“I had to check,” he explained, feeling foolish, and Nahri’s arms tightened around his shoulders. “I just… I needed to be sure.”

Nahri nodded. Dara picked up one of her hands, raising it to his lips and kissed the centre of her palm. 

“Come to bed,” Nahri murmured, raking her hand through his hair. “Come on, my love.”

Dara let her pull him backwards. He shifted beneath the covers and Nahri crawled into his side, tucking her head beneath his chin and splaying her hand across his chest. Dara buried his nose in her hair.

“I love you,” Nahri said, her voice cutting through the silence of the darkness.

Dara closed his eyes and held her tight.

“I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise to stop with the Dara whump for next week.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dara returns home to a surprise.

It was late by the time they reached Daevabad. Dara was all but asleep on his horse; the only thing keeping him awake was the knowledge of his charge, for whom he was responsible. When Queen Hatset fell ill, Zaynab wanted to travel to her mother’s side and Dara agreed to go with her as protection. With only two members of the Council Guard, they would be able to travel unnoticed.

He’d been in Ty Ntry for almost a month. As soon as it became clear that Hatset was going to recover, Dara longed to return to Daevabad and Nahri. He missed his wife. He missed waking up every morning, knowing she was within arm’s reach. He missed teasing her just to make her scowl and huff. He missed watching her work. He missed her, more than he’d ever missed anything.

It was the longest they’d been apart since their marriage.

Now, finally, they’d returned. Their horses hooves clattered loudly through the largely silent streets; at this late hour, the only places still open were salons like Khanzada’s or pleasure houses. They turned into the courtyard of the palace stables and hands ran out to take their horses from them.

Dara’s legs were stiff from riding for so many days. He stretched, turning to Zaynab and noting with some jealousy that she didn’t appear any the worse for wear after so much time in the saddle.

“Princess,” he bowed his head. “Shall I walk you to your quarters?”

“No, Afshin,” Zaynab smiled. Her eyes looked tired if nothing else. “Go see Nahri. I think I can manage to negotiate the palace I’ve lived in since childhood.”

Dara chuckled. He liked her.

“Very good, Princess. Then I wish you a good night.”

Then, at last, he turned and made his way through the palace to the apartments he shared with Nahri. He quickened his pace, his exhaustion waning temporarily as he moved ever closer to the place he wanted to be and the person he longed to be with.

As he’d suspected, their apartments were in darkness when he arrived. Dara let himself in as soundlessly as possible. Letting his eyes adjust to the darkness, he spotted Nahri asleep not in bed, but on the lounge, as though she’d drifted off without meaning to.

Dara’s heart jumped at the sight of her. Suleiman’s eye, was it possible she’d grown even more beautiful in the past month? He crossed the room, toeing off his boots, before carefully climbing onto the lounge and gathering Nahri into his arms. Burying his face in her hair, Dara breathed in the familiar smell of the oils and perfumes Nahri wore when she wasn’t in the infirmary and smiled to himself.

Nahri stirred, blinking awake. “Dara? You’re here?”

“I’m here,” he echoed, leaning down and brushing their lips together.

“I missed you,” Nahri smiled.

“I missed you too. More than I thought possible,” he confessed.

Nahri hummed, leaning into his chest. They lay together in comfortable silence, cocooned by the darkness - broken only by the flickering flame of the fire alter - and time slipped away. Dara was content not to move, save for the hand combing through Nahri’s hair, to stop and simply hold his wife and pretend the rest of the world had ceased to exist.

Nahri’s hand crept up his chest, playing with the collar of his shirt. Ducking his head, Dara pressed a soft kiss to her fingers.

“Dara?”

“Yes?”

“I think I’m pregnant.”

Dara’s hand froze, tangled in Nahri’s dark hair as her words sunk in. He lifted his head so he could look her in the eye, hoping desperately he wasn’t about to find that little smirk which meant she was teasing him on her face. Nahri would never be that cruel, but the thought of children, of a family of his own - it was almost too much to hope for.

Nahri’s eyes shone up at him, reflecting the light of the fire alter.

“You think?” he echoed, his voice hoarse.

She nodded. “I’ve been tired and nauseous, and my head keeps spinning. In truth, I feel terrible. But when I tried to make myself feel better, it didn’t work because... Because I’m not ill.”

“You’re pregnant,” Dara whispered.

He pressed his eyes closed, a few stray tears sneaking down his face, and let his head hang down. He was trembling, he realised, shaking from head to foot.

Nahri’s hand was soft against his cheek. Dara leaned into her touch, almost afraid to open his eyes again, lest it all turn out to be a dream.

“You’re going to be a father,” she whispered and Dara let out a sob.

“Nahri... I thought I couldn’t possibly love you any more, but it appears I was wrong.” He presses a kiss to her forehead. “Does anyone else know?”

Nahri shook her head. “Only Nisreen. She’s been covering for me at the hospital and she’s going to conduct a check up tomorrow. And then, hopefully, confirm my suspicions.”

“You don’t have any doubts though, do you?” he asked, studying her face.

“Not really,” she replied. Taking his hand, she pressed it against his stomach. “I can feel something growing. Something good.”

Dara splayed his hand across her belly, leaning down to kiss her. He imagined her rounded and glowing with child, and it shook him to realise that that reality was only a few months away.

“You are incredible,” he murmured.

“We made this child together,” Nahri remind him.

Dara shook his head. Without Nahri, without her magic and her stubborn determination, he would still be... He didn’t like to think about it.

Nahri stifled a yawn into his chest.

“We should go to bed,” Dara realised softly, stroking her hair. Nahri nodded, her eyes heavy, and sat up slowly, only to reach for the arm of the lounge and lean heavily on it. “Dizziness?” Dara asked.

She nodded. “Ya Dara, it’s bad.”

“Let me.” Dara scooped her up, standing slowly lest he should make Nahri’s head spin anymore, and carried her across to the bed. “What?” he asked, noticing Nahri’s knowing smile as he settled her into the pillows.

“You’re going to be a wonderful father.”

Dara bent to rest his forehead against Nahri’s. Her hand curled around his neck and he smiled.

* * *

Dara woke to the sound of Nahri retching from the bath. Easing out of bed, he padded through the apartment, crouching by her side and gathering her in his arms. Eventually Nahri slumped back against his chest.

“Is it like this every morning?” Dara murmured.

“Sometimes it’s better. Sometimes worse,” she replied. “They’re making sure their presence is known.”

Dara chuckled. “Sounds like your child.”

“Funny, I was thinking it sounded like your child,” Nahri retorted, poking him in the ribs. The amusement faded from her eyes and she leaned forward, her shoulders shaking as she gagged.

“Is there anything I can do?” Dara asked, rubbing small circles into her back.

“Can you… water. Please,” Nahri managed.

“Of course.”

Kissing the crown of her head, Dara climbed to his feet, returning to the bedchamber to fill a glass with water from the pitcher. Nahri leaned against him when he returned, and he smoothed back her hair while holding the glass steady.

“Thank you,” she sighed.

“Whatever you need,” he promised.

“Can you, just, hold me?”

“Of course.”

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

* * *

Dara accompanied Nahri down to the infirmary where Nisreen was waiting. The infirmary was mostly used for the residents of the palace these days, since Nahri and Ali rebuilt the Nahid hospital. Nahri clung to his arm for balance.

Although he was an adult by the time his sister was born, Dara remembered very little of his mother’s pregnancy. He was already a soldier, guarding the Nahids and doing their bidding, so he’d missed out or been unaware of the symptoms of pregnancy until Tamima was born. As a result, he had nothing to judge Nahri’s experience against. He tried to remain calm, to push his own fears aside to help Nahri, but he failed to completely silence the voice in his head telling him that this was when everything would fall apart and he would lose everything he’d gained over the past few years.

“You’ll be fine,” he murmured to Nahri when they reached the infirmary.

“I know,” she smiled, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “You’re not fooling me, Dara.”

He shook his head. Of course he couldn’t fool Nahri. She could read him like a book and he found himself unable to hide anything from her, no matter how much he may want to.

He retreated to Nahri’s orange grove, sitting down and breathing in the scent of the blossom. He was the only person she permitted to enter the grove alone. Tilting his head back, Dara closed his eyes. For a moment, he could picture it; sitting here with a baby on his lap, a child which looked like Nahri, perhaps with green eyes. He’d spent enough time with the children in the city - first the daevas, and then the shafit - that he could perfectly picture the weight of an infant, squirming on his knee as they reached for the fruit on the trees.

By the Creator, he _wanted_ that.

For a long time, Dara had forbidden himself from wanting things, because he knew they would only be taken away from him. But then he met Nahri, and he started to want again. And even then, he fought for what he had, forcing himself to reassess his own prejudices before he allowed himself to pursue Nahri romantically. To his disbelief, she wanted him back and on their wedding day, Dara told himself that this was enough. He had Nahri and he had his freedom; he didn’t need anymore than that. When they spoke of children, Dara stuck to vague terms and times, reminding himself that conception was difficult for daevas even without his added complications.

Nahri and his freedom were enough.

But now, with only a taste of what he could have, Dara wanted more. He wanted the brood of children he’d once told Nahri she deserved when he - rather embarrassingly, in hindsight - tried to convince her to marry her half brother rather than Dara himself. Thank the Creator she’d ignored him.

Dara drifted, lost in daydreams of children who favoured Nahri laughing and dancing through the trees, until a hand on his shoulder jerked his eyes open once more.

Nahri stood beside him, smiling down at him, and Dara realised he’d been smiling to himself. “You look happy,” she observed.

“I am,” he realised, drawing her into his lap. Nahri came willingly, winding her hand into his hair.

Dara studied her face, but her expression gave nothing away; her mouth set in forced neutrality and her eyes avoided his gaze for too long. But there was no trace of tears and Dara thought he caught sight of a spark of mischief in her dark eyes. He allowed himself a moment of hope.

Then she met his gaze and nodded.

“Truely?”

“Yes,” she grinned. “We’re having a baby.”

A delighted gasp escaped from him and Dara drew her in for a bruising kiss.

“And you’re healthy?” he pressed when the parted. “Nisreen, she says this is normal? The sickness and the dizziness…?”

“All normal,” Nahri assured him with a kiss. “In a few months time, we’ll be parents.”

“You are truly a wonder,” Dara told her and silently thanked the Creator that Nahri managed to summon him that day in Cairo, for that moment led him to here; in the orange grove in the palace at Daevabad, with his wife in his arms and their child in her belly.

A wonder indeed, and a blessing.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> News of the upcoming new arrival spreads.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This continues on from last week's chapter. Because this went AU in City of Brass, Nahri and Jamshid think they're siblings here. I'm working on the scenes where they find out who Nahri really is.

As Jamshid stood to follow his fellow council members out of the former throne room of the palace, he realised Nahri hadn’t moved from her seat. Turning towards his sister, he looked at her properly and realised she didn’t look well. She’d been unusually quiet during the council session too - most unlike his sister.

“Nahri? Are you okay?”

She gave him a strained smile then shook her head. In an instant, Jamshid crossed the room, crouching by her side.

“What is it?”

“Can you get Dara, please?” she asked, her voice faint.

“Of course,” he nodded.

Jamshid hurried to the door, catching the attention of the first servant he saw. “Aisha, can you ask the Afshin to come to the council chamber please?”

“Of course, Baga Nahid.”

With a smile of thanks, Jamshid returned to the chamber and Nahri’s side, covering her hand as she gripped the arm of her chair enough to turn her knuckles white. Worry churned low in his gut. Jamshid may not have known he had a sister until a few years ago, but he’d taken to being an older brother like a peri to the air. He’d always like Nahri and their bond had only grown since they discovered their kinship.

“Is there anything you need?” he asked softly.

Nahri shook her head.

“Okay. Dara’s on his way,” he assured her, squeezing her hand.Only moments later, the door opened and Dara stepped inside. As soon as he saw Nahri, the confusion vanished from his face, replaced by concern as he ran across the room to Nahri’s side.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

Nahri shook her head. “I just… I feel dizzy again. It came on during the meeting. Breakfast isn’t sitting very well either. I think we were mistaken when we said it looked like the worst has passed.

“It would seem so,” Dara agreed.

If Jamshid ever wanted to know what love looked like, he need look no further than Dara’s expression whenever he looked at Nahri. He was so obviously devoted to her and Jamshid would forever cherish the memory of Dara coming to him to ask for permission to marry Nahri. Seeing the famed Afshin looking so nervous was a sight Jamshid wouldn’t forget in a hurry.

“Nahri, are you sick?” Jamshid frowned. He wasn’t as accomplished a healer as he was, a few years behind her in his training, but he was more than willing to do anything he could to help her recover if need be.

But Nahri shook her head, a small smile blooming on her face.

“I’m pregnant.”

Jamshid blinked. “You’re…” He glanced between their faces - Nahri, tired but happy, and Dara, who looked like he might cry even though he was smiling - then pressed his hand to his mouth. He let out a laugh of disbelief. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” Nahri smiled. “Unfortunately this little one is determined to make their presence known sooner rather than later.”

“Taking after both of you already then,” Jamshid nodded, grinning when Nahri mock-scowled at him.

“Can you walk?” Dara asked, brushing her hair back below her chador.

Nahri shook her head. “I think you’ll have to help me.”

Dara pulled Nahri forward, one arm below her knees and sweeping her into his arms.

“You realise you’ll have a lot of people asking questions when you’re seen like this?” Jamshid cautioned them. He didn’t want them to be forced into revealing anything they weren’t ready to - and Jamshid knew the news of the pregnancy would raise a lot of talk, just like their marriage did - but the palace was notorious for gossip, especially about the Scourge of Qui-Zi and the shafit Nahid.

Nahri nodded, leaning against Dara’s collarbone. “We’ll make an announcement. I don’t think we’re going to be able to hide this even if we wanted to.”

“Alright. If either of you need anything,” Jamshid said, “You only need ask.”

“Thank you, akhi,” Nahri smiled.

Jamshid held the door for them and smiled to himself at the care with which Dara carried Nahri and the way her hand curled around his neck. They were already raising surprised looks from the palace staff, but Jamshid ignored them.

Anyone who had a problem with Nahri and Dara, including the members of his own tribe, could come and talk to him and Jamshid would be quick to set them straight.

No one messed with his sister.

* * *

With Nahri busy at the hospital - and her morning sickness abating for the day - Dara took the opportunity to visit the Grand Temple. He’d been meaning to visit since Nahri told him about the baby, but he’d been kept busy helping her deal with the side effects. Not that he was complaining; considering Nahri was carrying his child Dara thought the least he could do was stay by her side and do what he could to care for her and help her through the worst of it.

They’d announced the pregnancy the week before and been greeted with congratulations and joy from their closest friends. A small part of Dara had worried what Ali’s reaction would be - if he harboured any lingering feelings for Nahri that were about to make an ugly reappearance - but he’d been the first out of his chair to give them their congratulations, soothing Dara’s fears.

But it was a relief to step into the temple and pray in private, for Nahri and their child, asking the Creator to watch over them and take care of them both in ways Dara couldn’t.

When he was done, Dara exited the Temple and jogged down the steps towards his waiting horse until a voice called, “Darayavahoush.”

He paused, smiling when he saw Kartir making his way towards him.

“May the fires burn brightly for you,” Dara called.

“And upon you,” Kartir nodded. “I hear you are to be blessed with a new addition to your family.”

“We are,” Dara smiled. “Thank the Creator.”

“I hope Banu Nahri is well.”

“As well as can be expected.”

“I am glad to hear it. It is always an honour to see you here.”

“My duties as a husband keep me busy these days,” Dara grinned.

“As they should.”

“But I wanted to come and say a prayer for them both,” Dara added. “I’d never turn down a little divine assistance.”

“With your wife, I’d imagine you need it,” Kartir replied, his eyes twinkling.

Dara chuckled, but his skin began to crawl, the familiar feeling of being watching creeping along his spine. He glanced around as casually as possible and spotted a Daeva man glowering at him from a few feet away. When he noticed Dara’s gaze, his glare deepened.

“May the flames burn brightly for you, brother,” Dara nodded, hoping to appease him, whatever his problem may be. Some Daevas had never been able to reconcile with the idea of a Nahid breaking the most sacred covenant and lying with a human to create a shafit Nahid. They often objected to Dara, as an Afshin and their hero, marrying Nahri too.

The Daeva harrumphed and didn’t return the greeting. “You come into our temple to pray for the dirtblood,” he spat.

Kartir frowned, his mouth open to argue, but Dara held up a hand. He would prefer to keep the Daevas’ anger at him rather than the elderly priest. As he’d already proven in the days following the announcement of the council and the revelation that Nahri was shafit, he was more than willing to kill anyone who would do Nahri harm.

“It’s my temple too,” Dara pointed out evenly. “This is as much my faith as yours. I even have my own statue.”

“They should tear it down,” the Daeva man growled. “For marrying that shafit whore.”

Anger burned in Dara’s veins but he forced himself to remain impassive, lest they discover they’d struck a nerve. They’d gained an audience and the last thing he wanted to do was start a war.

“Careful, brother,” he warned. “You’re moving dangerously close to treasonous talk. Banu Nahri is still a member of the Council.”

“You betrayed your faith to be with her.”

“I educated myself,” Dara corrected. “Shafit are not so different from you or I.”

“You think you know better than the Creator? So a blasphemer, not just a traitor,” the Daeva man sneered.

“If what I’ve done is so wrong,” Dara said coldly, “Then why has the Creator blessed us with a child? Surely if my marriage was such an offence to the Creator, They would ensure our line ended with Nahri and I?” He raised his eyebrows in a silent challenge which went unanswered. “Precisely. May the fires burn bright for you,” he said once more, turning his back of the Daeva man.

“May the fire burn your shafit brat in hell,” the Daeva man spat.

Dara stopped. Rage burned through him. So much rage that he almost felt calm.

“Damn,” he sighed. “I wish you hadn’t said that.”

* * *

Nahri glanced up when she heard the familiar tread of Dara’s footsteps approach her office. Her mouth fell open when she spotted her husband, his clothes torn and black blood staining both cloth and flesh.

“By the most high, Dara!” she yelped. “I thought you were going to the Temple? What happened?”

“A minor disagreement?” Dara winced, poking at his split lip. “If it helps, I won.”

“Of course you did,” Nahri scowled, ushering him into a chair. “You’re the most famous Afshin in our history, I should bloody hope you won. Sit still.”

Dara hissed, drawing air through his clenched teeth as Nahri began to heal his injuries. All minor, she was relieved to discover, although why Dara felt the need to start brawling at the Temple left her shaking her head.

“He insulted you,” Dara said quietly, watching her out of one emerald eye.

“They insult me every day,” Nahri pointed out. “That’s no reason for you to start a fight.”

“He started it. I finished it,” Dara corrected and Nahri bit back a sigh. By the most high, save her from the arrogance of men. “And I didn’t start the fight when he insulted you. I tried to reason with him. So he threatened our child.”

Nahri froze, her hand instinctively going to her belly. She met Dara’s gaze.

“I convinced him to reconsider his poor choices,” Dara said calmly but his eyes were deadly. And Nahri knew there was nothing Dara wouldn’t do to protect their child. It was both terrifying and reassuring.

Reaching out, she cradled his head between her hands, pulling him forward so she could kiss the crown of his head.

“You ridiculous man,” she murmured, running her thumbs over his cheekbones.

“I’m not a man.”

“Fine. You ridiculous daeva,” she corrected and Dara grinned up at her. “Don’t move,” she warned then resumed healing his injuries.

“Done,” she announced, sitting back. “Go clean yourself up before you terrify my patients any more than you already have.”

“Me? Never,” Dara gasped, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

Nahri swatted his shoulder and smiled to herself at the sound of his giggles bouncing off of the walls as he left her office.

She loved that ridiculous Daeva.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seven is a lucky number.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part also follows on from the last two chapters.

Dara woke instantly with Nahri’s voice in his ear and her hand gripping his shoulder. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, as soon as he saw the worried expression on her face, he sat up, cupping her cheek. “What is it?”

“The baby’s coming,” she whispered. “My contractions are getting closer together and-" She broke off, her face falling in pain, and her fingers dug into his bicep. “Dara, I’m scared.”

“It’s going to be okay,” he assured her, even though he had no way of knowing this. She was the healer, not him.

“It's too early,” she shook her head. “Dara, it’s only seven months.”

“Seven is lucky,” he cut her off. “Just like this baby.” He pressed a kiss between her eyes. “Come on, let’s get you to the infirmary.”

Dara scrambled out of bed, pulling on a pair of loose trousers and a tunic before helping Nahri out of bed and into a robe. She looked terrified so he held her close, kissing the top of her head, and murmured, “I won’t let anything happen to you. Either of you.”

“I know,” she whispered.

“Come on.”

When they reached the infirmary and roused Nisreen, Dara handed Nahri over to the older Daeva reluctantly. He hated the sound of the door closing behind them; it sounded so final. He drifted over to Nahri’s orange grove and sat on the bench, running his hands over his face. Now that Nahri was safely in Nisreen’s capable hands, he allowed the fear to wash over him, his hands shaking as he leaned against his knees and let his head hang low.

He knew from experience when Nahri was the one helping to deliver babies that he could be in for a long wait ahead of him. Babies took their time coming into the world, even if this one did seem determined to make an appearance earlier than expected. So he settled in for a long wait.

As time passed, the sky grew lighter, the darkness fading to be replaced by pale blue and orange. Dawn crept closer, the sun inching over the horizon, and Dara emerged from the orange grove, moving to the edge of the garden to watch it climb into the sky. His heart swelled watching Daevabad come to life in the warm light and he was surprised to discover tears pricking the corners of his eyes. Suddenly overcome with emotion, Dara realised how close he’d come to never returning to Daevabad, to his home, and missing out of the life he’d built with Nahri. The life which was about to be enriched by the addition of their child.

Dara smiled.

He wondered what his sister would think, if she could see him now. Not his parents, because he knew what they thought of the shafit. They felt the same way he did, before a shafit with the power of the Nahid’s and a history as a thief summoned him and forced him to reconsider everything he knew. But his sister, he liked to think Tamima would’ve listened if he tried to explain why he made the effort to learn about the shafit. He liked to think she would’ve been excited about the birth of her niece or nephew, no matter their blood status.

He imagined her standing next to him, older than she was ever allowed to be, teasing him about being nervous but keeping him company the entire time until news came. Of course, even if Tamima had survived, she would’ve been long dead by now. Still, it was good to dream. If Dara’d learned anything over the past few years, it was that.

Retreating to the orange grove once more, Dara picked an orange from the tree. He sat on the bench, peeling it slowly and popping the segments into his mouth with the faint strains of the palace coming to life in the background.

He lost track of time so it could’ve been moments or hours later when Nisreen appeared outside the orange grove. Dara jumped to his feet, hope and fear seizing him as he studied her expression for any hint of good or bad news.

“Congratulations, Afshin,” Nisreen smiled. “You’re a father.”

Her words were like a punch to the gut. Dara’s eyes filled; he tried to wipe to tears from them as subtly as possible. “Can I see them?” he asked, his voice gruff.

“Of course.”

Dara crossed the garden and stepped into the infirmary, closing the door quietly behind him.

The whole world narrowed to Nahri, sitting forward in bed, staring down at the bundle in her arms with a wonderstruck expression on her face. Crossing the room, he knelt on the edge of the bed, and sat down behind Nahri, pulling her back into the cradle of his hips. Leaning over her shoulder, he had his first look at his child.

One glimpse stole his breath. He could feel himself trembling against Nahri as he held her tight. They sat in silence, both staring at the tiny baby they’d created together.

“Meet your daughter,” Nahri whispered eventually.

Dara smiled, tears filling his eyes once more. “A girl?”

Nahri nodded.

“She’s beautiful,” he choked.

She was the most perfect thing Dara had ever seen. He recognised his own brow and nose - and wasn’t that a wonderfully strange experience to see his own feature reflected back at him in his daughter? - but her eyes were obviously shaped like Nahri’s, even as she slept. A dusting of dark hair covered her scalp; Dara couldn’t resist lifting his hand to let his fingers drift over her head.

“She’s so tiny,” Nahri whispered, her voice trembling.

Dara nodded. He marvelled at how small their daughter was against his hand. He didn’t know it was possible for babies to be so small. But considering how little he knew about babies, his judgement wasn’t one to go by.

“Dara, I’m scared,” Nahri confessed.

“So am I.” He kissed behind her ear. “We can do this together.”

“How can you be so confident?”

“Confident? I’ve never been so afraid in my life,” he admitted. He covered Nahri’s arm with his own where she supported their daughter’s back. “This is something I cannot afford to fail at.”

“You think we can do this?”

“I do.”

Nahri smiled. “So do I.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Azarmeen is unimpressed with the arrival of her baby brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some soft dad Dara as promised!

“Baba!” Azarmeen cried, throwing herself into Dara’s arms and burying her face in his neck.

“Hello, little flame,” Dara frowned, stroking her hair as she smacked her fist against his collarbone ineffectually. “What’s wrong?”

“Baby bad,” Azarmeen scowled, raising her head. “Bad bad bad.”

“What? What do you mean baby bad?” Dara asked, rocking back and forth in what he hoped was a soothing motion.

“Yaqub. Bad,” Azarmeen insisted. “Bad. We put him back.”

“Back? Back where?”

“Back. Away.”

Dara chuckled. “We can’t put Yaqub back, little flame.”

“Yaqub bad,” Azarmeen repeated, hitting his shoulder for emphasis. “Bad bad bad.”

“Why is he bad?” Dara asked, catching her hand and rubbing his thumb over her knuckles.

“Baby cries and mama goes to him,” she pouted.

“Oh, little flame,” Dara sighed, holding her close. They’d both worried that Azarmeen would be jealous when the new baby came, and it looked like their fears were not unfounded. While they’d both- fine, _Nahri_ had tried to avoid spoiling Azarmeen too much, she was used to being an only child and receiving undivided attention not only from her parents, but from her aunts and uncles too. The arrival of her little brother had thrown her whole world into disarray.

“Why don’t we go see the horses?” Dara suggested. He bounced her on his hip, pressing a kiss to her temple and offering her a smile.

“Horses good,” Azarmeen nodded. “Baby bad.”

Dara caught the attention of a passing servant. “Can you tell Banu Nahri that I have Azarmeen with me?” he asked her.

“Of course, Afshin,” she bowed.

Even after all these years of being Nahri’s consort, Dara doubted he would ever grow accustomed to people bowing to him. He tried to cover his awkwardness with another kiss to Azarmeen’s forehead.

After more than an hour in the palace stables, Azarmeen fell asleep in his arms, her head tucked under his chin and one tiny fist clinging to his collar. Dara made his way through the palace corridors back to the apartments he shared with Nahri. The sight of him with Azarmeen drew curious and surprised looks, even though he was a father twice over now, and even before his marriage, he could often be found with children, usually shafit children, following him like little lambs. Apparently the idea of the Scourge of Qui-zi being a father was as startling to the people as it was to Dara, even though he could feel the warmth and weight of his daughter in his arms.

As he let himself in, Nahri appeared from the bedchamber and Dara shushed her before she could speak. Nahri’s face softened when she saw Azarmeen asleep in his arms.

“Is she okay?” she whispered. “She’s been cranky all day.”

“She’s jealous,” Dara explained, running a hand over Azarmeen’s back. “As we feared, she’s not adjusting to being a big sister easily. She wanted to send him back.”

“Oh, little one,” Nahri frowned. Dara eased Azarmeen into her arms and his heart leapt at the sight of Nahri and Azarmeen, just as it had every time since the first time he saw them together on the day of Azarmeen’s birth. “Oh my darling,” Nahri whispered.

Right on cue, a faint cry came from the bedchamber.

“Do you think he knows?” Nahri sighed.

“Perhaps,” Dara chuckled. “But this time, he has to make do with his baba.” He squeezed Nahri’s shoulder then hurried through to the bedchamber.

His son lay in the cradle, wriggling and kicking his legs, an unhappy pout on his face. It was amazing, Dara thought, to look at someone else and see your own eyes looking back at you.

“Shh, it’s okay, my flame,” he murmured, lifting Yaqub onto his shoulder. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Yaqub snuffled in his ear, squirming for a few minutes until he was settled against Dara’s chest. With a little sigh, his eyes closed again and he seemed to drift off again, leaning into Dara with a hand pressed against his collarbone above the collar of his shirt.

“Is he okay?” Nahri whispered when Dara emerged from the bedchamber.

“I think our son is using me to stay warm,” Dara grinned.

“He’s clever,” Nahri smiled, ducking down to see Yaqub’s face, before straightening up, apparently comforted that Yaqub really was fine.

“Takes after his mother,” Dara smiled.

Nahri rolled her eyes. “Flatterer. What do you want?”

“Nothing. I have everything I need right here,” Dara replied softly, looking at the two children asleep in their arms.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dara and Yaqub go on an adventure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I missed last week because of work so here is some father-son fluff to make up for it.

“So,” Dara asked, “What do you want to do today?”

Yaqub’s mouth twisted as his frowned in concentration, standing on his bed in the nursery. His expression was so adorable, Dara couldn’t help the smile which threatened to overtake his own face.

“Um… We should go on an adventure,” Yaqub declared.

“An adventure?” Dara echoed. “Very well. What kind of adventure?”

“We could go outside the city and see all the, the flowers and the trees and explored. But not too far,” Yaqub added quickly.

“Of course not,” Dara agreed. Yaqub didn’t have Azarmeen’s adventurous spirit, which verged on reckless as times. (Nahri said that was his fault. Dara said it was her fault. Ali said they were both to blame.)

Yaqub walked to the edge of the bed, beckoning Dara closer with his finger. Dara moved forward, placing a steadying hand on Yaqub’s side as his son leaned close.

“You know what adventures need?” Yaqub whispered.

“What?”

“Supplies.” Yaqub’s eyes twinkled. “In case we get lost.”

Dara nodded solemnly, but he was laughing inside. “A very good plan,” he agreed.

“Otherwise, we might have to eat something disgusting like bugs!”

“That would be terrible.” Dara held out his hand. “To the kitchens then.”

“The kitchens!” Yaqub exclaimed, grabbing Dara’s hand and leaping off of the bed.

They made their way through the palace, Yaqub skipping along at his side. The servants in the kitchen glanced up when they arrived but quickly lost interest. None of them were a rare sight in the kitchens these days, and they’d grown accustomed to Dara’s presence during all three of Nahri’s pregnancies, usually late at night, stumbling in in search of whatever food she was craving.

Faced with the bustle of the kitchen, Yaqub shrank back a little, pressing into Dara’s hipand slipping his fingers into his mouth. Dara reached down, gently pulling his fingers free and hiding his grimace at the saliva on his hands. He’d long ago accepted that children were always sticky and that that stickiness often transferred onto him. He gave Yaqub’s hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Afshin,” one of the servants greeted, an older man with kind eyes, wiping his hands on a cloth and stepping forward. “Baga Yaqub. How can I help you?”

Dara squeezed Yaqub’s hands again. “Go on,” he murmured.

“We’re going on an adventure,” Yaqub blurted out quietly.

“An adventure? That sounds exciting,” the servant smiled. “Is your sister going with you on this adventure?”

“No, she’s with mama today,” Yaqub shook his head.

An understatement. Although Azarmeen tended to be Dara’s shadow, she’d decided yesterday that her brother was monopolising far too much of her mother’s time, particularly with the addition of Tamima in their lives. Azarmeen had insisted, angry and tearful, on spending at least the whole day with her mother and sister with no annoying boys around - and that included her father.

Dara took his dismissal with good grace and embraced the opportunity to spend more time with his son.

“I see. So you are in charge of keeping your father from trouble today?”

“Yes,” Yaqub giggled. “And we need supplies. So we don’t have to eat any icky bugs or anything.”

“An excellent plan,” the servant nodded. “Would you like to help me make something up for you to take?”

“Yes please,” Yaqub grinned. He glanced up at Dara for reassurance; Dara nodded and Yaqub released his hand, following the servant into the kitchen to ready their supplies.

As with everything he did, Yaqub’s face was alight with curiosity as he listened to every word, following the instructions his new friend gave him to the letter. Dara folded his arms, leaning against the wall where he was sure he wouldn’t get in the way of the work happening around them, and watched his son with a fond smile. Because he was usually out with Azarmeen and Yaqub tended to be with Nahri or Ali, Dara didn’t have as many opportunities as he would’ve liked to spend time with his son. Some wondered - some very foolishly wondered - if Dara was ashamed of his son, who would never follow in his footsteps to train as an Afshin and spent more time with books than a bow.

Dara couldn’t care less whether or not Yaqub even picked up a bow. Besides, Azarmeen seemed determined to follow in the footsteps not only of Dara himself, but of Aqisa and Irtemiz, both of whom Azarmeen idolised for their skills with their respective weapons. Already, at four, Yaqub could read better than Dara himself and to Dara, that achievement was just as important as any skill with a weapon.

Perhaps if he’d been educated the way Yaqub was, he would’ve been able to make his own choices much earlier in his life.

Shaking his head to remove the melancholy thoughts, Dara turned his attention back to where Yaqub was carefully packing the snacks under the kind-eyed servant’s careful guidance. Dara tilted his head, and his smile slipped away a little.

There was something familiar about the servant. And not because Dara hadn’t seen him before - they conversed regularly, as he came from Egypt and made Nahri her favourite Egyptian delicacies whenever she felt homesick - but because of his mannerisms with Yaqub. No, it was his expression.

He looked like Nahri, Dara realised with a jolt.

“Baba, look!” Yaqub cried, racing across the kitchen. “We’re ready. We have supplies.”

“Excellent,” Dara nodded, his eyes drifting back to the servant. Now that he was looking for it, he was the similarities between the servant and Nahri. Could he be…

“Baba, let’s go,” Yaqub declared, tugging his hand.

“Alright, we’re going,” Dara chuckled, taking Yaqub’s hand. He glanced at the servant one last time and found him watching Yaqub with an almost sad expression which disappeared as soon as he noticed Dara’s gaze. “Thank you,” Dara nodded.

“You’re welcome. Enjoy your adventure.”

“Thank you. We will,” Yaqub nodded.

Dara smiled and pushed the servant from his mind, leading Yaqub out of the kitchens.

* * *

Dara lost himself in their adventure, wandering in the hills behind Daevabad and delighting in the way Yaqub’s face lit up at the sight of the variety of flora and fauna growing on the hillside. When they came across a caterpillar, Yaqub declared it was “Yucky!” and grimaced when Dara let it crawl over his hand before getting distracted by tulips.

“Can we pick flowers to take home?” Yaqub asked, letting his fingers drift over the petals.

“Of course,” Dara nodded. “Why don’t we get them on our way back so nothing happens to them?”

“Okay!” Yaqub called, racing across the hillside towards the stream meandering its way down towards the city. He dropped to his knees with a thud that made Dara wince, leaning over the water. “Do you think there’s fish in here?”

Dara crouched by his side, rubbing circles into Yaqub’s back. “I think it’s too shallow for fish.”

Yaqub hummed, staring into the water. Eventually he sat back with a sigh. “I think you’re right.”

“Sometimes your mother allows me to be right,” Dara joked.

Yaqub giggled, then scrambled to his feet and took off again.

They sat by the cave where a famed Nahid ascetic had prayed for survival from famine, which used to be popular with couples hoping to conceive in Dara’s day, to eat their lunch. Yaqub nestled into Dara’s lap, leaning back against his chest and staring down wide-eyed at the city below. Dara smoothed back his soft curls, marvelling yet again at how his son looked identical to him, before dropping a kiss onto the top of his head.

“I love you baba,” Yaqub mumbled, biting into a piece of flatbread.

“I love you too, little flame,” Dara murmured.

“I thought Azarmeen was little flame?”

“You are all my little flames,” Dara explained. “You, Azarmeen, Tamima. You are precious and bring more light than I thought possible to my life.”

Yaqub nodded absently, craning his neck to watch the ferry crossing the lake, before slumping back in Dara’s arms. Dara smiled, burying his nose in Yaqub’s hair, feeling his heart swell with love for his son.

After lunch, they picked flowers. Or more accurately, Yaqub picked flowers and thrust them into Dara’s hands.

_Of course_ , Dara thought to himself with amusement. _What else is a father for?_

He gladly carried the growing bunch of flowers then, when it became apparent Yaqub was slowing down, he lifted Yaqub onto his back and carried him back towards the city. Skinny arms wrapped around his neck and he felt Yaqub’s head lean against his shoulder. Even though he couldn’t see his face, Dara was certain that Yaqub had fallen asleep.

Returning to the palace, he made his way back to the nursery, tucking Yaqub into his bed for a nap and perching on the edge of his bed and watching him sleep for a few moments, saying a silent thank you to the Creator for the blessings that were his children.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on Tumblr as [weethreequarter](https://weethreequarter.tumblr.com) so feel free to come and chat.


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